


Catcall

by authoredAria



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Haus Cat, Kittens, M/M, its just p much a fluff fest ok so prepare yourself, secret pet, the only characters in this for most of it are tango and whiskey and the kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoredAria/pseuds/authoredAria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It all started with a cat call. No, not like someone whistling at him like jerks do to random women in the street. An actual, literal catcall, the softest meow that, had it not been repeated, Whiskey would have been certain he never heard it. "</p><p>Or, what happens when two college boys attempt to raise a kitten in secret, and how things end far better than imagined when they get found out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catcall

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of this post here: http://ericbitties.tumblr.com/post/144373658911/i-feel-like-whiskey-is-the-kind-of-person-who  
> This took well over a month to write because of school, graduation, and me being a general piece of shit, but I did my best, indulged the fluff I wanted of DrunkDancing/Twango/Whatever you call their ship, and finally got it done!  
> Also here's a picture of Gertrude, in case anyone wants to know what she looks like: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/2d/3f/c4/2d3fc4998da0a57cb6c90fe1df2aaa92.jpg  
> Anyway, I hope some other people actually like this, and feedback would be lovely! Thank you! <3

It all started with a cat call. No, not like someone whistling at him like jerks do to random women in the street. An actual, literal catcall, the softest meow that, had it not been repeated, Whiskey would have been certain he never heard it.

He was supposed to be getting to class, to his American History class. He was already beginning to run dangerously close to being late, and being late was just not something Whiskey did. To him, early was on time, on time was late, and late was unacceptable. But, as much as some wouldn’t think so, he had his attention grabbed easily enough, and now that he heard the meowing, he couldn’t ignore it. He wouldn’t have felt right if he just kept walking.

So, Whiskey stepped off the sidewalk, following the noise, and peered into a thick bush, only to blink when a pair of big hazel eyes stared up at him before another high-pitched, insistent meow came from the tiny mouth before him. The ball of striped gray, brown, and white fur hobbled towards him, and Whiskey felt his heart melt a bit. A kitten. There was a kitten under the bush, and it was struggling a bit to climb out from under the bush, so Whiskey knelt on the grass and pulled the kitten out with a gentle hand. Immediately, it nuzzled against his palm, curling up in his hand, small enough to do so comfortably, and Whiskey was left kneeling there with a ball of fluffy kitten in his hand.

It was well known that a few stray cats would wander campus. People sometimes left food out for them or tried to make makeshift nests and beds for them when it got close to winter time, where the cats would be stuck facing the New England cold. But here Whiskey now was, with a kitten that had been alone for God knows how long, since even with all the fluffy fur, it had dirt on it, and stroking his fingers along the small body, he could tell it was a bit too thin. Whiskey didn’t think before he found himself standing up, carefully moving his hand. He ignored the meow of protest, which was silenced once the kitten was in his pocket, where it was dark, warm, cozy, and he kept his hand there to hold the kitten in place, and still stroke its fur gently. He just walked after that, heading to his history class, making it a minute late, and ignoring the pointed look from the professor as she started the lesson. Even as he sat beside his best friend and teammate, Whiskey wasn’t exactly thinking much.

“Hey, Whiskey,” Tango whispered, though Whiskey was pretty sure whispering didn’t matter. The professor didn’t care about talking so long as it wasn’t loud and disruptive. “What happened today? You’re always here before me. Is everything okay? Did you forget about class? Or miss your alarm?” Tango fired off multiple questions, which Whiskey was used to. He may be quiet, standoffish, and to the opinions of some “an asshole” since he didn’t talk much, but he was used to Tango’s constant talking and questions. He liked it, actually, not that he’d admitted it yet.

“I found something,” he answered simply, glancing at Tango. There was a brief second of silence before Whiskey spoke again. “Look.” With that, Whiskey leaned back in his seat a bit, using both hands to hold his sweatshirt pocket open, where Tango looked in and could see the fluffy kitten curled up in a small ball and sleeping peacefully.

“Whiskey!” Tango exclaimed, after gasping loudly, drawing the attention of others, which made Whiskey sink down in his seat slightly and quickly shut his pocket. Tango barely seemed to notice, too busy with his face bright and smile lighting up his entire demeanor and vibe as he sat closer. He at least was a bit quieter when he spoke. “Oh my God! Where did you find it? Is it a boy or a girl? Did you name it yet? What’s its name? Are you going to keep it?”

“I found it on my way here. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. I don’t have a name picked out yet. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her,” Whiskey mumbled. He usually made sure to answer all of Tango’s questions. He knew the other got teased at times for his abundance of curiosity, so Whiskey took it upon himself to always do his best to answer each question. Tango returned it by understanding Whiskey just didn’t like to be talkative, and knew he had a bigger heart than he let on. Getting his notebook and pen, Whiskey just nodded towards the board, where new notes were being presented, and that was signal enough to end the conversation for now.

Throughout class, Tango leaned over, asking questions both about the notes and about the kitten. The kitten was a warm weight against Whiskey, moving now and then, but for the most part, it just slept. When they were released, Tango didn’t rush to get his things together, He even helped Whiskey get his things, and left together. “Whiskey! We need to give it a name! What should it be? Have you thought of any during class? Should it be a people name or something goofy?” Tango prattled as the two headed towards the Haus. It was like their feet were on autopilot. They often didn’t intend or consciously think about spending time at the Haus. It just happened.

“Didn’t come up with much,” Whiskey admitted, glancing down at where his hand was in his pocket, curled protectively around a soft ball of fur. “Ezra, maybe. Or Turner. I don’t know.” Names weren’t something he had concerned himself with at first. He hadn’t exactly ever been the most creative with names growing up. Even then, the names he offered were from musicians he liked.

Tango was silent a moment, seeming to consider the names, before shrugging. “I think you should name it Gertrude if it’s a girl. Wouldn’t that be a nice name?” he asked. “Or Harold for a boy. Harold’s a cool name. Right? They’re both classic. And wouldn’t you like a name that you can make a nickname from?”

Whiskey couldn’t help the small face he made as the two approached the Haus, finding no one they when they walked inside, though he didn’t question it. “I can check what sex the cat is. Still. Gertrude and Harold?” he asked Tango for once, looking at him with a slight tilt to his head.

“My grandparents are named Harold and Gertrude. They’re really great. You should use one of those names, but only if you can’t think of anything. Unless you like those names?” Tango said, shrugging, a smile on his face. He just seemed to enjoy being around Whiskey and the kitten. Just the soft smile as Tango looked at the kitten made Whiskey’s heart hammer against his ribs momentarily.

“Well…” he paused and pulled the kitten from his pocket once they settled in chairs in the kitchen. He lifted it up and ignored the noises of protest and the wiggling. It took one look, before he lowered the kitten back to the top of the table, scratching her head. They could wipe the table down later. “Gertrude it is.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asked, perking up a bit. “You’re naming her after my grandmother? That’s so nice, Whiskey! Thank you! Can I pet her? She’s so cute. Can we keep her?”

Whiskey wasn’t sure where the “we” came from, but he wasn’t going to stop Tango from saying it. It was entirely adorable to see how happy he was to be helping with the kitten already. He wouldn’t ever be able to bring himself to deny Tango. At least, he thought that until he remembered a rule that was going to put a downer on things. “The dorms do not allow pets at all. Not even a goldfish. I’ll have to find somewhere to keep her.” Even as he said it, Whiskey hated the idea. He wanted to keep Gertrude the kitten. He wanted to hold her close, stroke her fur, clean her up and keep her all to just Tango and himself.

“Could we keep her here in the Haus?” Tango asked, tilting his head. He looked away from Whiskey when Gertrude walked to Tango and sniffed at his hand cautiously, before butting her head against his hand to demand a pet. It was endearing to watch Tango pet the kitten, scratching under her chin. Even Whiskey could hear the loud purrs reverberating from her tiny body. The way Tango was smiling was absolutely adorable in Whiskey’s opinion.

“You remember Holster’s complaints of the Rabbit Apocalypse of 2012?” Whiskey asked carefully. It was both a horrifying and hilarious account of a past member of the team taking his girlfriend’s rabbit into the Haus while she was to be studying abroad. It ended with the rabbit escaping, hooking up with a wild rabbit, and having a hoard of baby rabbits in the Haus basement that ransacked the room. The team had decided then and there that no animal would be able to grace the presence of the Haus for an extended time. It was in the bylaws and everything. Whiskey knew that Tango knew this the second he saw that precious and adorable smile disappear from his face.

“Yeah but she’s different. She’s just a little kitten!” Tango argued, pouting a bit as he looked down at Gertrude. She was still purring and nuzzling against his hand.

Tango obviously adored her, and Whiskey had a soft spot for anything cute and furry. He normally hated going against the rules, but his heart broke at the mere thought of getting rid of Gertrude. He found himself saying, “No one has to know she’s here,” before he even thought about it. The way Tango’s face lit back up and he looked at Whiskey like he just gave him a million dollars made him entirely forget the idea of taking the words back. “We can… We can hide her in the basement. No one goes down there into the storage room part. And um… We hang out here enough that it won’t be that strange to be here a lot. We just have to be sneaky.”

Tango was beaming, nodding his head excitedly as he scooped the kitten up to hold her to his chest. “Whiskey that would be perfect! We can raise her here, and maybe change everyone’s minds when she’s bigger! We can train her to not destroy things like the rabbits!” he exclaimed. In his excitement, Tango threw an arm around Whiskey, pulling him into a hug. Tango was warm and solid against Whiskey, and he just felt even better about his idea of keeping Gertrude if it made Tango this happy.

He just hoped it wouldn’t backfire on them.

The idea had seemed simple enough. They just had to be careful that no one would find out. By Tango’s insistence, they never bought a real cat bed. They each stuffed a shirt over a thick layer of fluffy towel in a box instead, to make a bed that would “comfort her when she’s alone”. Could this boy be any more sweet? Whiskey was pretty sure that Tango reached the highest saturation of sweetness possible. There were a few toys they bought, nothing that would make noise, and the best cat food they could afford after some research, and it was all hidden in the basement. The two of them spent as much time as they could excuse in the Haus with Gertrude, and thus, with each other.

Whiskey grew closer to Tango, and he loved it. It was always cute to see how happy Tango got over just talking about their cat. Their cat. It was a bit surreal to think about. Honestly, Whiskey wasn’t even sure if he looked forward to time with Gertrude or time with Tango more. 

Of course, their luck had to run out eventually.

A month. They managed to keep Gertrude a secret for a month, which was no small feat for her being hidden in a frat house full of people. They didn’t even live in the Haus, yet they managed. Things were bound to go wrong eventually.

It was a storm, literally, that did their secret in. In the month they had Gertrude, the weather wasn’t too bad, a few rainy days, but no major storms, not until that night. It was a movie night in the Haus, the two of them tagging along after how often they’ve hung out with the Haus members outside of practice Ransom, Holster, and Nursey took the main ugly green couch, Bitty, Chowder, and Dex managed to squash onto the loveseat Bitty snagged at a flea market and deemed clean, and Lardo took the armchair, leaving Tango and Whiskey to sit on the floor with Nursey and Holster’s legs as their backrests . Rain pelted down on the Haus, the wind howled outside. That wasn’t the issue. The issue came from the sudden loud, rolling rumble of thunder after lightning flashed outside and illuminated the living room through the windows. Immediately, Tango seemed to grow worried. For all his questioning, Tango was a rather intuitive person. He just knew things sometimes, and Whiskey knew that Tango knew a storm was not going to go over well with their kitten. Whiskey reached out, patting Tango’s arm gently and reassuringly. He was sure things would turn out okay, that there was no reason to be so deathly worried.

Whiskey regretted that thought as soon as it popped into his head when the lights began to flicker. Ransom paused the movie, stating in his “captainly leader” voice that he and Holster would grab flashlights before the power went out and they’d need them. Bitty spoke up to remind them to grab some candles as well for extra light.

With the movie paused, the room was silent. Whiskey, and everyone else in the room, finally heard it: loud, distressed meows, coming from the basement. The others all turned to stare towards the door, different mixes of startled and confused. Tango, however, wasted no time in scrambling to his feet, saying nothing before he was rushing to the basement. He was obviously strung out with worry, and the level of concern Tango showed made Whiskey’s heart almost seize in his chest.

The meowing didn’t stop, even when Tango walked back to the living room, but it was less distressed at least. There was a heavy silence from everyone in the room as Tango sat down close to Whiskey’s side with Gertrude curled up against his chest. “She’s afraid of the storm. And if the power goes out, I don’t want her to be by herself down there,” Tango explained, seeming to only pay mind to the trembling kitten and Whiskey. Tango looked up at him as if seeking support for his thinking. There was no way Whiskey could deny it, especially with the worried, earnest look on Tango’s face.

“Of course. Can’t leave her to be afraid all alone,” he said simply. He reached out, gently stroking the trembling ball of fluff. Briefly, even Whiskey forgot it wasn’t just the two of them alone in the basement like they were used to.

“The fuck is that?” Looking up, Whiskey stared at the surprised look on Holster’s face as Ransom came up behind him and froze up as well.

“Dude, is that a fucking cat?” Ransom asked, as dumbfounded as Holster. Tango tensed, and Whiskey could feel it from where the other had been leaned against his side. Tango was silent for once, just nodding his head. “Where the hell did you get a cat?”

“The basement, apparently,” Dex spoke up, staring at the cat instead of anyone else. It seemed everyone was staring at just Gertrude, or Gertrude with Tango and Whiskey. Whiskey couldn’t even be relieved that the cat was relaxing finally. His nerves were gnawing at his insides, especially as attention focused more on Tango and himself.

“That thing’s been living in the Haus basement,” Holster asked in disbelief.

“Kitten, not thing. And yes,” Whiskey answered, quick and to the point like usual. He fought the urge to fall mute due to nerves, but it was a bit of a struggle to keep himself from feeling his vocal chords freeze up and render him silent. “For a month. Tango and I have taken care of her.”

Chowder seemed to be the only person to take the situation in stride. That was probably to be expected, though. “What’s her name?” he asked, ever abundant excitement coming through as he spoke up, going so far as to lean forward in his seat.

“Gertrude!” Tango answered, finally managing to give the adorable and excited smile that Whiskey loved seeing whenever Tango talked about the kitten.

“Dude, what kind of name is Gertrude?” Nursey asked, tilting his head.

Even if Bitty elbowed him over the question, Whiskey immediately felt a bit defensive. It was Tango’s idea, and the last thing he wanted was for any member of the team to make Tango feel bad about his name idea. “She’s named after Tango’s grandmother,” he answered, his gaze stern. The team could hate her, he didn’t care. He just didn’t want any chirping to turn mean about Tango’s name choice.

As Nursey just nodded his head and looked away from Whiskey’s gaze, Bitty cleared his throat. “That’s sweet. It’s a nice way to remember someone by,” he commented lightly.

At that, Tango tilted his head, visibly very confused. “Remember? What do you mean?” he asked, confusion lacing his tone in a way that Whiskey found endearing. “Grandma Gertrude’s not dead. She’s really cool though! She took me on a cruise before! And we raced pedal boats. Isn’t that cool? And cats are cool, right? So naming one after Grandma Gertrude seemed like a good idea. Do you guys like it?”

There was a moment of silence, maybe a bit of relief at the answer. It was a bit ridiculous really. That line of ridiculous reasoning was just so Tango though. It was entirely Tango and made far more sense now.

“Why does it matter?” Ransom asked suddenly.

“Can’t keep her here. You don’t even live here. And either way, it’s against the bylaws,” Holster explained before anyone could even ask.

“Can’t break the bylaws, bro,” Ransom surmised, nodding his head sagely. 

The fact that a month of bonding, a month of caring for, a month of hiding, was all for nothing was breaking Whiskey’s heart. They both loved that damned cat. They worked their asses off, saved money, scheduled time, all just to work around and keep Gertrude a secret and raise her well despite the situation. He loved that cat. He loved raising her with Tango. He loved all the cute moments they shared as they watched and laughed at cute kitten antics. A month of all of that, and it was going down the drain before Whiskey’s very eyes.

A sniffle pulled Whiskey out of his thoughts. Tango’s eyes were watering, and his grip was secure yet careful on Gertrude, as if loosening it would let her be taken away. “Why can’t Whiskey and I keep her? Can’t we prove Gertrude is good and won’t destroy the Haus?” As Tango spoke up, Ransom and Holster both seemed hesitant about saying anything and upsetting the youngest teammate even further. A teary-eyed Tando was more heartbreaking than even the saddest of those ASPCA commercials.

“They managed to hide her for a month.” It was Lardo that spoke up, like a voice of reason in a dark time. Her tone was very matter of fact, but her words already filled Whiskey’s heart with hope. “That wouldn’t be easy if she was some sort of fur demon straight from hell.”

“But the bylaws,” Holster defended, and that earned an eye roll from Lardo as well as Bitty that time.

“Why don’t you check the basement for if she destroyed it? They went to all this effort and ya’ll should at least give them a chance. It’s important to them. You wouldn’t be happy with the bylaws if you were in their shoes,” Bitty spoke, and Ransom and Holster looked chastised the more Bitty said. They were almost like guilty children caught teasing another child. Still, both D-men nodded silently and walked to the basement.

Quietly, Whiskey wrapped an arm around Tango’s shoulders, holding him close to his side. It was instinct to want to hold Tango close and comfort him. Whiskey didn’t think before he moved. It felt natural really. Tango’s head rested against his shoulder, and it felt like it belonged there. Gertrude wiggled free to lay across both their legs. They didn’t even realize they weren’t alone in the room. For a brief moment, the world was just the two of them, narrowed down to themselves and Gertrude. It was almost peaceful to Whiskey, just focusing on Tango, on comforting him. He’d only wish that it wasn’t that situation to cause it.

“You didn’t clean up when you got her?” Ransom asked, breaking the silence. Whiskey held still, letting Tango sit up again to answer.

“No. She was terrified. So I just grabbed her and came upstairs. Why?” Tango spoke, tilting his head. Whiskey knew that normally, aside from the toys being spread out a bit and needing to have her litter box cleaned regularly, Gertrude wasn’t a messy cat. She kept entertained without sinking her claws into the walls or tearing things apart. But what if being afraid made her messy? He couldn’t help but be worried, watching Ransom and Holster exchange a silent look, communicating in a way only the best D-men in the NCAA could.

“And you’re determined to keep her?” Holster asked. “What about away games?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Whiskey spoke up this time, rather than let Tango do all the talking. There was a determined tone to his voice. He meant it. He wanted to figure everything out, wanted to make it work, wanted to never give up Gertrude or this new closeness with Tango.

There was another long silence before the two captains gave a short nod in total sync. Distantly, Whiskey wondered if that came naturally or if they practiced. “Okay,” Ransom said simply. “You can keep her here. She’ll be the team cat, even if you’re her weird kitten parents.”

“But! You’re doing all the cleaning up, and making sure she keeps on being a non-destructive cat,” Holster stated, and really, his guidelines were easy to follow.

Tango gave a cheer, earning a disgruntled noise from Gertrude when he scooped her up to hug her to his chest before he turned and surprised Whiskey with a tight hug as well. “Thank you so much! This is so great! Is she really going to be the team cat? Can she get a hockey nickname? Can we move her out of the basement?” His voice was light with excitement, words tumbling out of his mouth quickly and eagerly.

“Goodness, of course she isn’t going to keep staying in the basement!” Bitty spoke, seemingly appalled by the mere idea of leaving the kitten to live in the basement now that she wasn’t a secret. “Just keep her out of the kitchen and she can remain the hockey mascot. I don’t want cat hair near my counters and oven.”

“Dude, of course she needs a hockey name,” Nursey piped up, seeming to think a moment. “Gertie?”

Debate as to who was for or against “Gertie” was forgotten to Whiskey. It merely fell on deaf ears. It was hard to focus on anything but the idea of being “kitten parents” with Tango. He wanted that. He knew he wanted that. Parents usually entailed ideas of nuclear families, of a couple actually together when raising a kid. Ideally at least. Whiskey knew that wasn’t a common case, but he was hopeful, he could dream, could consider asking about making their role as parents a bit more permanent and a bit more intimate.

“Do you want that?” Tango suddenly asked before Whiskey could even get his mind to focus again. He spoke softly, just loud enough for Whiskey to hear. It wasn’t entirely necessary to speak so low with the debates going on about potential hockey names for Gertrude. “It’s okay if you don’t. But do you? Want to be kitten parents? Because don’t parents in movies usually date and marry and all that? I mean not marrying yet. That’s a bit much, don’t you think? But maybe we could stay as her parents?”

Whiskey didn’t dare to interrupt Tango’s rambling questions. Honestly, the babbling was adorable, as was the nervous blush that seemed to spread over his cheeks. It made Whiskey smile, giving a nod of his head. “I’d like to be kitten parents with you. And just be with you,” he said. This time, he beat Tango to asking something first. “May I kiss you?” 

It wasn’t exactly romantic in the least, on the dingy carpet of the living room of the Haus, the debate growing more heated behind them. Distantly Whiskey is aware that roaches and attics are being brought into it, but he has no desire to figure that out. Instead, he focuses on Tango’s blush and nod in answer, for once surprised into silence. The kiss is quick, brief and chaste, a gentle brush of his lips against Tango’s, but it’s all Whiskey is willing to do in front of the rest of the team, at least for now. He and Tango smile a bit dopily at each other before they’re startled out of their moment by Holster letting out a sudden “Hold up!” Looking up, the two tadpoles see that he’s staring at Gertrude, who had wandered off their laps at some point as they figured out their relationship. She’s calmed enough in the room of people to be trotting about on the carpet, batting at a popcorn kernel, entertaining herself in what was frankly an entertaining manner.

“Foxtrot! Her hockey name can be Foxtrot!” Holster exclaimed, pointing to the kitten. There was a brief pause before Dex scoffed lightly.

“She doesn’t even look like a fox though,” he pointed out, giving a little shake of his head. “She’s brown and gray, not orange. It wouldn’t make sense.”

“But it does,” Lardo stated, tossing another kernel onto the ground, which Gertrude turns and pounces onto. “Whiskey and Tango are her cat parents. Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot.”

“I like it…” Tango stated, after seeming to mull it over as he leaned into Whiskey’s side again. “Do you like it?” he asked, looking up at Whiskey. Whiskey nodded his head. It seemed like a nice name., and if Tango liked it, then he liked it “What about everyone else?” Tango asked.

“It’s better than Gertie, though I think anything is better than that!” Chowder said, smirking at the indignant noise that Nursey let out. The team all seemed to nod in agreement, and Whiskey found himself smiling, his hand resting over Tango’s on the floor as Gertrude walked over to them with a kernel held in her mouth like some sort of prized hunt.

“Welcome to the Haus, Foxtrot the Hockey Cat,” Ransom said as he looked over them. Gertrude settled on Whiskey’s lap, dropping the kernel and letting out a meow as he shifted, making Whiskey smile even brighter as Tango leaned over to pet her, the rest of the Haus crowding around them to lavish her with attention.

And to think it all happened because of a cat call.


End file.
